Carlyon turned quickly. The retainer was standing on the threshold, gloomily surveying them. “Hatchment,” he repeated.
“Nonsense!” Carlyon said impatiently. “Situated as this place is in the country, I see not the least need for—such a display.”
“When mistress took and died,” said Barrow obstinately, “we had the hatchment set up in proper style.”
“Then pray set it up over the door again!” said Elinor.
Barrow regarded her with approval. “And the knocker tied up with crape, missus?” he asked.
“By all means!”
“That’ll be primer-looking, that will,” nodded Barrow, and went off to attend to these matters.
“You are a woman of decision,” remarked Carlyon.
“I trust I have my wits about me, my lord. No good purpose could be served by offending the notions of these people.”
“My cousin had so cut himself off from county society that I doubt of your being troubled by visitors.”